


Game Over

by wocket



Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: Dylric, Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex on Furniture, Video & Computer Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-27 04:04:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21385795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wocket/pseuds/wocket
Summary: Dylan spends too much time focusing on video games instead of his boyfriend. Eric decides that shit's just not right.
Relationships: Eric Harris/Dylan Klebold
Comments: 8
Kudos: 74





	Game Over

_What’s the point of my parents being fucking gone if Dylan just wants to play video games?_ Eric thinks angrily. The two of them are holed up in Eric’s basement on a Friday night. Dylan’s in the tan La-Z-Boy recliner playing through _Tomb Raider II_ for the fiftieth time while Eric’s lounging on the sofa, feeling ignored. His focus drifts between what’s happening on screen and Dylan’s thin fingers manipulating the PlayStation controller. 

Dylan had promised they could spend some time hanging out together, but he’s been playing the game for over an hour and a half solid. Eric’s pretty sure if he got up and left Dylan wouldn’t notice. This wasn’t exactly what he had in mind when he invited Dylan over. He’d been thinking of something a little steamier, something that involved a little more hands and tongue and less Lara Croft. Eric thought Dylan had understood when he called him after school and said his parents would be gone all night, but now that he’s here, he might as well be on a different planet.

Eric’s been nursing a semi since four o’clock, and there’s no way he’s taking care of it himself. Eric doesn’t give a fuck about the Gold Dragon or the Dagger of Xian or whatever. “Hey Vodka.” Eric keeps holding on for as long as he can tolerate the silence. Finally, sick of waiting, Eric leans over the edge of the sofa. “Vodka,” he calls again, annoyed. “_Vodka_!”

Dylan, immersed in the exploits of Lara Croft, doesn’t answer.

Eric decides he'll show Vodka a thing or two for not paying attention. He contemplates unplugging the Playstation, but chooses instead to reach over him and grope Dylan over his pants, pushing the controller out of the way so he can touch Dylan.

Dylan ignores Eric’s fumbles, staring ahead at the TV screen. Eric takes it as an invitation to go further.

Eric flicks open the button on Dylan’s black jeans and pulls down his zipper. He reaches a hand inside Dylan’s boxers and wraps his fingers around Dylan’s dick. Dylan’s dick throbs in his hand. Eric pumps him a few times, giving a few experimental strokes, feeling him grow harder in his hand.

“I’m not done with the level,” Dylan protests, after Eric still doesn’t let up. He keeps playing the video game as Eric plays with him, increasing the friction, trying desperately to get Dylan’s attention, to no avail. 

“Reb,” Dylan warns, but he doesn’t push Eric’s hand away the next time he reaches for his fly. Eric starts to jerk Dylan off but Dylan sighs and leans to the side so he can see the TV screen. “Get out of the fucking way.”

“Fine.” Instead of leaving him alone, Eric takes Dylan’s comment literally and sinks to his knees in front of the armchair. He rubs his hand over Dylan’s crotch but Dylan keeps playing the video game, focused on the screen. Eric tries to work him up, using his mouth, his hand, whatever. At this point he was just being stubborn.

Dylan holds frustratingly still as Eric works Dylan’s jeans down over his hips as much as he can. Eric tries to pull them down his thighs, yanking when it proves difficult while Dylan is sitting in the recliner. Dylan’s dick finally springs free.

Eric braces his hands on Dylan’s knees and leans forward, leaning underneath Dylan’s hands to wrap his mouth around his dick. He runs his tongue over him, trying to tease his interest.

Dylan merely brings the controller down to rest on his head, continuing to play the level as Eric sucks his cock.

Eric can hear the familiar sounds of the game, can hear Dylan’s errors as the number of mistakes he makes steadily increases. He can tell he’s almost got him. One of Dylan’s hands slips off the controller to grasp at Eric’s shoulder.

Eric tries to deep-throat Dylan, pressing his nose into his pubic bone and practically gagging. It finally elicits a noise from Dylan, though he tries to hold back. He spreads his legs a little without meaning to.

Fed up, Dylan sighs and shudders. He presses Start on the controller to pause the game.

“Get up here,” Dylan tells him, yanking Eric up onto the recliner with him. In a mess of limbs, Eric climbs into Dylan’s lap. Dylan tosses the controller aside so he can get his hands on Eric’s hips and tug him into place.

“Hang on,” Eric tells him, and he reaches down to grab the lever and lean the chair back. With a resounding creak, the chair wobbles back, leaving Dylan horizontal and Eric crawling over him.

“You better make interrupting my game worth it,” Dylan threatens, hands skimming over Eric’s skinny ribcage.

“Why do you think I was trying to get your attention?” Eric smirks.

Dylan catches Eric’s mouth in a filthy kiss to shut him up.

Eric grinds his crotch against Dylan’s. “You wanna fuck me?” Eric grins a devilish smile.

“What?” Dylan asks, surprised (his boyfriend must be desperate for attention to make such an offer). He reaches for Eric’s hips. “Yeah, yes. Fuck yes,” he stammers.

Dylan helps Eric slink out of his jean shorts, tugging at them as Eric wiggles in his lap like a spider. He helps Eric get them off his legs and kick them to the floor, followed by his green plaid boxers, fabric slipping over socked feet.

Eric procures a condom out of nowhere, passing it to Dylan. Dylan slips it over his dick and rubs up against the crack of Eric’s ass.

“Hey,” Eric interrupts. He looks a little embarrassed. “Can you - can you open me up first? Like, finger me or something?”

“Yeah, of course. Sorry,” Dylan apologizes. This is still new to them. Eric seems terrified to have to ask, so he kisses him and runs his palms over any part of his exposed skin to try and put Eric at ease.

Dylan sucks his left index finger into his mouth, working his tongue around it until it’s covered in spit. He reaches for Eric, who tenses up when Dylan fingers his rim then slides his finger inside him. It takes a moment for the sensation to turn from surprising to pleasant, but Dylan’s long fingers are talented, and pretty soon Eric’s making happy little grunts that he’d probably never admit came from his mouth.

Eric bites Dylan’s lower lip. “Yeah. Like that.”

Dylan kisses him again, crooking his fingers inside him. 

Eric’s hands fist in Dylan’s Chemical Brothers t-shirt, stretching out the fabric as he holds on for dear life. 

“Shit,” Eric curses. Dylan’s cock nudges at his entrance. Dylan presses inside all the way, leaving Eric feeling split open. Eric's erection has gone from half-interested to completely on board, jerking every time Dylan thrusts rhythmically.

Eric’s bare knees bracket Dylan’s hips. He starts to take over, thrusting, his knuckles turning white where they clench Dylan’s shirt, a sharp contrast against the red fabric.

Skin moves against skin and Dylan groans at the way Eric feels around him. His eyes are wide at the sight of Eric working himself on his cock, at the sight of Eric’s skinny body moving on top of his own. He squirms at the sight of Eric’s round little ass bouncing up and down on his dick.

Dylan’s movement is limited, his own pants still stuck somewhere over his thighs. He lets Eric ride him and control the pace, bucking his hips against Dylan’s. His hands go to Eric’s hips, mostly just to hold on, feeling Eric work his body against his own.

Eric grabs Dylan’s shoulders so he can work himself on Dylan’s cock, thrusting forward so slowly Dylan can barely keep himself from pushing in deeper. He builds up his uneven rhythm until his movements are sloppy and uncoordinated. When Eric starts to lose his breath and slow down, Dylan tries to make up the difference, gripping Eric’s thighs and bringing him down onto his dick again and again. His hands slip against the back of Eric’s sweaty thighs.

“Is that all you got?”

Dylan thrusts harder and slaps his hand across Eric’s mouth. Eric tries to bite his fingers but Dylan keeps fucking him, pounding into his tight hole. 

“Come on. Fuck me harder,” Eric commands.

Dylan grabs a handful of Eric’s ass cheek and slams Eric down, raising his hips to meet Eric’s. The chair rocks underneath them, threatening to tip. 

There’s something special about the way Dylan’s dick strikes inside him just right, and Eric shudders, reaching for his neglected hard-on. He pumps himself a few times and then Dylan’s left hand closes around his own; they move their hands together over Eric’s dick until Eric’s cursing nonsense and coming over both of their fingers and across Dylan’s abdomen.

Over-stimulated, Eric groans as Dylan fucks him through his orgasm until he reaches his own climax, hands scrambling at Eric’s skinny hipbones, his arms, whatever he can reach.

Dylan makes an embarrassing little noise when he comes, one that Eric kisses from his mouth, taking advantage of his momentarily dazed boyfriend to work his tongue into his mouth and swipe it across his teeth.

Dylan is sweaty and red-faced, blonde hair frazzled. Eric feels like his job is done. He drops to Dylan’s chest, dead weight. “Fuck,” he mutters, exhausted. His own cheeks are red, his temples dotted with sweat.

Dylan wraps his arms around Eric’s bony shoulders, starting to get comfortable. “You got what you deserve.”

Eric tries to shut him up with a kiss. Then, suddenly, he hops out of his lap, despite Dylan’s long face when he pulls away from his embrace. “Hey,” Dylan complains, arms suddenly empty. "That's all I get?"

“Put your pants back on,” Eric commands, flinging jeans at Dylan’s face. “You played _Tomb Raider_ so goddamn long my parents will be home any minute.”


End file.
